


Ace of Swords

by tenebrae_di_oblio



Series: Arcana [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Different forms of magic, Gen, MACUSA | Magical Congress of the United States of America, Newt likes to experiment, they know nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 06:17:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18277496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenebrae_di_oblio/pseuds/tenebrae_di_oblio
Summary: Newt has travelled the world, has explored places and cultures and creatures that many could never dream of, it was near impossible not to pick up a thing or two along the way.Or5 times Newt secretly used a different (illegal) form of magic and 1 time everyone found out





	Ace of Swords

**Author's Note:**

> Because I refuse to believe that only one type of magic exists in the Wizarding World and Newt, having travelled all over the place, must have picked up a few tricks here and there.

1

Newt stood tall under the light of the full moon, not the real one of course, but inside his case the night sky in many of the enclosures reflected the sky outside. So, when the moon was full outside the case, the moon inside the case was also full. Newt had found that if the moons coincided at the same time, then much of the magic from the real moon would be reflected in his case. 

Naturally, this made it the perfect time and space to do some of his more arcane rituals. 

Newt had travelled the world, had explored places and cultures and creatures that many could never dream of, it was near impossible not to pick up a thing or two along the way. The rituals he performed nowadays were a rather strange mixture of rituals he had picked up from several different cultures – with their permission of course – and they really shouldn’t work, but they did. 

This particular ritual was for letting go of the past, cleansing and healing of the soul. Things that Newt was in desperate need of since his visit to Sudan and subsequent failure to save a little girl. Her death weighed on him like the ocean, pushing down on him until he felt like he would be crushed by the pressure. He could only be thankful that the full moon was close, he had never been in greater need of it. 

He had set up his ritual circle in a forest habitat in a distant part of his case, warded to prevent other creatures and other wizards from coming near it. The circle was made of stones, all collected from natural water sources and rarely moved from their original positions. Little bits of moss and fungus were beginning to grow on the stones, which Newt encouraged because it could only strengthen any magic cast within the circle. 

For this particular ritual, it was best to perform it without a wand, so Newt left his wand with his coat and jacket in the shed. The next step, after ensuring that the circle was still intact, was to light the sage and walk the edge of the circle while it smoked. This helped purify the space, as Newt had found, and was essential if he wanted to do this properly. 

Once he had completed one lap around the circle, he did another pass, lighting white candles at the four cardinal points of the circle. Newt tended to make his own candles specific to whatever ritual he was trying to perform, the ones he made for the healing ritual contained a number of herbs and powdered crystal associated with healing. 

Once that was done, Newt stepped into the circle, bare feet stepping soundlessly across the cool soil. The next step was the hardest; the candles around the circle could be lit with a match, or a mere spark, but the next step required Newt to windlessly light a fire in the centre of the circle. It was a feat that had taken him months to perfect, but now the fire sprung to life with a mere wave of his hand, crackling away merrily at his command. 

Newt knelt, heedless of the dew soaking into his trousers, and removed the items he wished to burn from the cotton bag at his side. A torn piece of the cloak Newt had wrapped her body in, the shirt he had been wearing when he found her, the parchment he had written the extraction on, the words of the spell that contained the obscurus in the snowy forest habitat. 

The idea was that, by burning these items and reciting your intention to move on as you burned each one, you could help heal the hurt in your soul that those items represented. To cement this, Newt chose to pray to Hecate and any spirits associated with the event itself. He had found that after rituals like this he felt lighter, the pain in his heart and soul starting to heal and he was then able to move on but he would never forget. 

Newt dropped each item into the fire, one by one, whispering his prayers to Hecate and the spirit of the young girl. She had never known her name, but Newt had been able to find out from eavesdropping on the village that she was named Aliyah before she was determined to be evil and cast out of her home. 

He still remembered her pain, her fear and her deep-seated relief when the light left her eyes. She’d been so happy to die, so happy to be away from the torment that she had suffered for so long. Aliyah had only been 8 when she died, and yet all her life was filled with pain and the desperate wish for it to end. Newt could also remember the joy, the unending glee of the villagers when she passed. To them she was cursed, a blight on their land and their village. They couldn’t get rid of her soon enough, it had been a real struggle to leave peacefully and not succumb to that burning anger inside of him. 

The fire roared, rising high into the air, embers dancing in the night sky as the moon shone down on him. With each addition, each muttered prayer, Newt felt a weight being lifted off of him. He watched the embers hit the ground within the circle, vanishing to nothing and taking his guilt and pain with them. 

When the last item had burned down to nothing, and the flames had begun to die down, Newt rose to his feet. A soft wave of his hand extinguished first the fire and then the candles, throwing him into darkness once more, with only the light of the moon illuminating the clearing. 

If need be, he would repeat this ritual again, this time during day when the waning moon was most powerful. He would have to let his magic, and emotions, settle and see how he felt in the morning. Rituals like this couldn’t heal everything, and sometimes needed repeating, but they were a way to lessen the burden of pain and help practitioners move on from their hurt. 

Newt released a heavy breath and stumbled out of the circle, feeling surprisingly drained but blessedly light. He whispered his thanks into the air and a light breeze ruffled through his hair, brushing across his neck like fingers. 

2 

In hindsight, this hadn’t been his best idea. In fact, when he thought about it, this was probably on par with that incident with Katherine in terms of stupidity. No matter how fond she was of him, a dragon should not be spooked, even accidently, apparating anywhere near her general vicinity was just asking to be burned. The poor girl had been very upset when he’d came to apologise for scaring her, she had barely let him out of her sight until the burns on his arms and chest had healed. 

The ritual had started out well. He’d cleansed the are he was using, a small cave in Norway, with rosemary for healing, protection, purification and mental clarity. Then he’d lit incense at the centre of the cave, three sticks of sandalwood, spice and temple. They were supposed to focus you during the ritual, giving you protection and opening the body up for the ritual magic to take effect. 

Then he’d cleansed his knife – silver for magic conduction and the moon, with an amethyst set into the handle for opening external senses and balance. He’d waited for the eclipse to begin, casting out his magic and his senses until he felt the lunar energies reach their peak, and then he’d begun. 

Bloodmagic rituals were a bit barbaric, in the sense that you had to cut runes into your own skin, but the benefits far outweighed the costs. He’d spent months carefully planning his runes and their placements, and had spent just as long practising drawing them so that he wouldn’t mess it up when it came to the real thing. 

The pattern was to be symmetrical, flowing from his temples and across his cheekbones, then up the bridge of his nose and onto his eyes and forehead. He’d also selected to use norse runes as he felt more of a connection to them than to any of the other runic alphabets he’d been researching. His selection of Norway for the ritual itself just reflected this decision. 

The six runes he had chosen had been ansuz (signals, messenger, Loki), kana (0pening, fire, torch), laguz (flowing water, the driving), berkhana (growth, rebirth), dagaz (transformation) and raidho (communication). With the hope that their combined meaning would help direct and shape the ritual. 

He’d started cutting when the moon began to fade from the sky and had finished when it was fully visible once more. He’d only been allowed a few moments to contemplate whether it had worked or not, before his whole body had seized. He’d dropped to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut, the knife discarded somewhere to the side as his hands came up to cradle his head.

It was as if fire was burning through his head, centred around the new runes. He could feel the magic running through him, like hot magma and lightning, it seared through him, leaving only pain in its wake. He’d never felt anything like it, even his tumulus 17th birthday hadn’t been this bad. It was as if he was being remade, fire carving through him and electricity igniting the ashes left in its wake. His whole world, his whole being, was centred on that feeling, of the pain and the energy and the sheer power coursing through him. 

Then it was gone. 

Newt collapsed onto the hard stone, his whole body shaking and trembling as the last of the magic left him, leaving him an aching mess in the centre of the cave. Oh, Merlin he ached. He only just managed to roll himself over in time to avoid throwing up all over himself, bile and vomit splattering across the black stone. 

He really couldn’t stay here now. 

He groaned, rolling weakly away from the mess as pain throbbed through his body. Logically, he was aware that he should remove himself from this cave and go sleep on the nice cot in his case. Realistically, his muscles were cramped and aching, his eyes and brain felt like they were melting out of his skull, and he just knew that he wouldn’t be able to move anytime in the foreseeable future. 

He’d sort himself out later, once he felt more like a human and less like an old rag that had been stretched until it tore and burned afterwards. For now, all he could do was drag himself to the alcove where he had hidden his wand, coat and case. His magic screamed as he threw a few proximity wards and an illusion over the entrance to the cave to prevent anyone from sneaking up on him. One final cleaning spell later, he allowed himself to slump across his case, using it as a pillow while his coat acted as a blanket. Tomorrow, he could figure out what he’d managed to do to himself and go about soothing his aches and pains from the bungled ritual. But for now, he slept, runes glowing softly in the darkness of the cave. 

2.5 

Newt frowned as he stared down at the calculations and plans that he’d spent months working on. The problem with ritual was glaringly clear now; he’d overpowered it. That was quite evident now. 

The ritual would have been fine if he’d done it on a full moon or maybe during the new moon for building new ideas, doing it during a total lunar eclipse was foolish. Doing it on the lunar eclipse 3 days before his 27th birthday, 27 being the only positive integer that is three times the sum of its digits, was just adding a lot of unnecessary power to an already powerful event. 

All those threes, what on earth had he been thinking when he’d planned this out. To top it all off, he had six runes (two lots of three) and three incense sticks. Merlin, he’d been an idiot and he’d paid for it. 

The runes worked just as intended when he channelled magic into them; mage sight, mental clarity, a greater awareness of his surroundings, his magic flowed nicely and he was much more resilient to attacks on the mind. That was everything he had hoped for and more, so in that sense, overpowering the ritual had worked out well. 

The unintended side effects, on the other hand, were a pain. When he wasn’t channelling the runes there were a number of problems; he projected his thoughts more unless he was actively protecting them, was more sensitive to magic and had increased empathy. The magic sensitivity was workable, until he went into a magical area a few days ago and came back with the worst migraine he had ever suffered. Prompting him to hide in the runespore cave for several hours until he could think once more, because even potions had done nothing for the pain.

The empathy was great when working with his creatures. He found that he was able to get a better handle on their moods and their needs, it made him a better carer and he relished the ability it gave him to communicate by projecting his own emotions. In crowds, however, it as a nightmare. Humans, in comparison to his creatures, screamed out their emotions and Newt had barely been able to apparate out of there fast enough. 

But he could work with this. Some experimenting would be needed but he was fairly sure that he could dull his sensitivity to magic through a combination of talismans and mental warding. He could also keep to more muggle areas, as they had less magic and seemed to project their emotions far less than magical people did. 

There was evidently some sort of connection between magic and the projection of thoughts and emotions but Newt wouldn’t be giving that too much thought. 

Maybe candles could work, for when he was feeling too overwhelmed. And a mojo bag would do nicely, because he could wear it on the go. This was going to take some time, and a few experiments to see what worked and what didn’t. But he could do this, and in the meantime, he could stick to muggle areas and lose himself in the wilds. 

He could get through this. 

3 

Newt stared forlornly at the long crack running through his wand, it was rather deep and even took a large chunk out of the handle. That would teach him a lesson about going after an entire smuggling ring on his own with no back up and minimal intel. The smugglers had gotten in a lucky shot when he was disarming the last one, so now his poor wand was sparking and rather hot in his hand. He would have to repair it immediately, before it got any worse. This had to be the worst break he’d had in years, only beaten by the time that poor Elaine got into a tizzy and smacked it out of his hand.

Olivander would probably be appalled if Newt ever showed him his wand and what it had become. Newt had made various additions to the wand over the years; mother of pearl, fossilised shells, lime wood and even bone had been used in his previous repairs. The old wandmaker probably would barely be able to recognise it from the wand that Newt had bought when he turned 11. 

Even the core had been added to in some way, not that Newt would ever reveal just what he’d added to it. Few of the animals he tended to were legal and many had freely offered things like feathers, fur and shells for his repairs. Olivander would likely have a heart attack if he knew that one of the cores in Newt’s wand was a Basilisk headscale; Elaine had been very sorry about breaking his wand. That wasn’t even mentioning the other things that he’d added over the years, Olivander would drop dead on the spot if he knew. 

As far as ritual magic went, wand repair was fairly basic stuff, if a little obscure. Newt honestly didn’t know why such a useful ritual had never been taught in any of his classes, but it probably had something to do with the whole taboo around any kind of ritual magic. It was ridiculous, because few rituals were inherently dark, but the Ministry was rather backwards about this kind of thing. 

The crack itself didn’t look too bad, Newt had some shells from the Death beetle – a magical cousin of the Death feigning beetle found in the Sonoran Desert – and when mixed to make a resin it was great for repairs. It had the added bonus of being freely given and harder than steel, so Newt was eager to get to it. 

The first thing he had to do was run his magic through the shells to make sure that they were compatible with him. A quick pulse and Newt was rewarded with the sight of the shells glowing gently in his palm, they would work nicely. Preparing the resin took no time at all, crushing the shells was the hardest part but Newt persevered and soon had a thick blue mixture sitting in his mortar.

The mixture had to sit for a few hours for the bubbles to settle, but the new moon wouldn’t be rising until later that night anyway, so he had time. The new moon was great for wand repairing rituals, so he was lucky in that sense, but any of the moon phases would do. Newt also liked to light incense or healing candles to add a little extra oomph to the whole thing, but it wasn’t a necessary step. 

Newt occupied himself by doing his evening rounds, making sure that all his creatures were fed and that the new Graphorn couple were settled. The female seemed to be pregnant and Newt was thrilled; many of the remaining Graphorns in the world were either too young to mate or well past their fertile years, this was likely the last mating pair in existence. Newt hoped that they would produce several young while in his care. 

Newt was hoping to begin collecting younger Graphorns, and elderly individuals too, and start building a sizeable herd in the relative safety of his case. That way, when the foals reached maturity, he could continue breeding the line. It would be hard, Graphorns had a long breeding cycle and a short window of fertility, but Newt could do it. Then, when he had the money and the resources, he could build a protected sanctuary for the herd. 

It would take him years, but if he did this properly then he could bring the Graphorns back from the brink of extinction. Too many adults had been culled for their use in potions and only the young or the very elderly had survived; old Graphorns having lost too much of their inherent magic to be of use in potions and young Graphorns having yet to develop it. There were less than 50 of them left now, with a good number of them too old to continue the species. 

He was getting ahead of himself here, just a smidge. There was no way he could go galivanting around the world on the hunt for more Graphorns with his wand still broken. A quick glance at the sky revealed just how late it was getting and Newt hurried to complete his rounds before his creatures got too grouchy with him. 

The rest of his rounds went quickly once he’d got his head out of the clouds, and Newt soon found himself kneeling in the centre of his stone circle. The only light came from the candles and glowing incense that he’d lit. The darkness was a bit of a hindrance, but the candles provided a good amount of light and soon Newt’s vision adjusted enough for him to start working. 

Newt scooped out a glob of the resin using a silver spoon, silver being a good conductor of moon magic, and started working it into the large crack in his wand. It was fairly easy to build a thick layer of resin in the crack, and the chunk taken out of the handle filled in nicely. Newt inspected his work in the light of the candle, blue shining in the soft orange light, and deemed it acceptable. He couldn’t see any gaps between the wood and the resin, which would have been disastrous when it came to performing spells. Newt gave it one more pass with the resin, just to make sure and then decided it would be fine. 

Finally happy with his work, Newt let a thin stream of magic flow into the wand, ready to throw the entire thing into the woods if it looked like it was going to explode. He was delighted when, instead of a fiery explosion, the resin merely solidified and a rainbow of sparks erupted from the end of his wand. Enthused, Newt extinguished the candles and incense and made his way back to his shed. A few quick tests later and he could happily report that his wand was in working order once more. 

It was a good thing too, Newt had just heard about a Thunderbird in Egypt and he was looking forward to returning it to its natural habitat. What was the weather like in New York this time of year? Newt had no idea, he just hoped it wouldn’t be too dreary. 

4 

Newt had to admit that, when he’d told Director Graves that he had a spell that would help in locating a man who had been killing muggles, he’d been twisting the truth a little. He did, in fact, have a way to locate the man who’d been evading all tracking spells that they sent after him, it just wasn’t a spell. He as being entirely truthful when he said that he’d need about 5 hours to do it and something that the target had touched or owned. 

Director Graves likely assumed that he was bringing out another creature of some sort, he could clearly tell that Newt had been lying about the spell, but even Gracie and Elizabeth hadn’t been able to do much more than circle the last area he’d been sighted in. If a Nundu and a Wampus couldn’t track your scent then there were few creatures that could. Newt knew that Brienne, Brunhilde and Bridget could probably manage it, and Elaine definitely could. But no matter how much he trusted his creatures, there was no way he was revealing that he owned a Runespore and a Basilisk to MACUSA. He trusted his creatures to be good, he did not trust humans to be just as well behaved. 

Which left him with the slightly illegal – but probably less illegal than a basilisk – method of ritual divining. Well, it was kind of a ritual, more candle magic than a ritual but it still fell under that category. 

Tracking candles were a rather new addition to his collection of candle magic, born out of necessity when he was trying to find a group said to be smuggling a young Graphorn. They were a tad more complicated to make than most of his candles, but it was doable in the 5 hours he had given himself. The candle making itself would take an hour or so, but then he had to sit perfectly still and breathe in the fumes until it burned down to nothing. 

His legs were going to be terribly cramped after this. 

Newt wasted no time in cleansing his tools with lavender and preparing his metal cauldron – silver plated of course, the best when working with any sort of divination – to start melting down his wax. He was working with paraffin this time, simply because it burned down the fastest and speed was everything when it came to tracking spells. 

He preoccupied himself with weaving tracking spells into his cotton wick, threadmagic was simple but devastatingly powerful when you used it properly. Newt ties 7 knots into the cotton, making sure they were evenly spaced, and cast a different tracking spell as he worked each one. As the wick burned down, and the threadmagic mixed with the herbal divination magic, the smoke would be infused with the powerful concoction created. 

Once the wax had melted, Newt threw in the crushed dogwood fruit which would not only increase the wish magic in the whole thing but would give the candle a nice blue colour. Blue being useful when creating candles to do with problem solving and learning. As he added the herbs, Newt called out to Artemis, goddess of the hunt and of the moon. Hunting was the focus of the ritual, but moon magic was equally as important because the Dark Moon was hardly the best time for candle making. 

Newt let the whole thing settle while he attached the knotted cotton to the aspen dowel base, aspen to represent truth seeking and purity, and set the wick into the bottom of his glass jar. Newt set a little carved arrow into the bottom of the jar, along with a piece of the shirt the man he was tracking had been wearing when he’d escaped. Pulling on his dragonhide gloves, Newt tipped the wax into the glass jar, being careful not to spill anything and set aside the whole thing to cool. 

While he waited for it to set, aided by a cooling charm or two, Newt cleaned away his supplies and poured the remaining wax into a glass dish to reuse another time. He scrubbed away the last dregs of wax by hand, making sure that the silver looked shiny and new before drying it with a rag and setting it back under the sink with his other cauldrons. He could clean up using magic, but this used up more time and was quite soothing. 

A quick glance at the candle revealed that it had completely set, the deep colour lightening as it hardened into a cheerful powder blue. Newt scooped up the candle, along with a pillow, and hurried out of the shed. The ritual circle was isolated but hardly comfortable to sit in for hours, hence the pillow, but it was a clear space to work in which is what he needed. Out of sheer coincidence, the pillow was also a nice soft blue, which was nice, Newt loved it when things matched. 

He made sure his pillow was nice and plump before he settled down on top of it, when working with long rituals like this he preferred to be lying down, that way his legs wouldn’t hate him when he tried to stand up. Newt curled against the pillow, settling the candle close to his face and lighting it with a snap of his fingers. 

Newt breathed deeply, letting the smoke coat his lungs and the magic wash over him. It was important, when performing divination of any kind, to open your mind and be accepting of anything the magic might like to show you. Newt drifted, images floating through his vision and voices ringing in his ears. His whole body felt lax as he breathed, exhaling smoke in strange symbols and numbers. He did his best to memorise everything he saw, so that he could write it down later. 

When the candle finally burned down, wispy black coils of smoke and magic curling in the air, Newt took a deep breath and pulled back. He often heard of people losing themselves in the magic of rituals, waking up to find that hours had passed when it felt like minutes to them, but Newt had never experienced that before. He’d never zoned out that much during one of his rituals, doing so now was a little unnerving. Adding something from the being you wished to track seemed to increase the strength of this ritual exponentially. He would have to note that down. 

It would also be worth noting that he was exhausted, you’d think that he would feel fine after lying down for hours but that was not the case. His body ached and his magic felt incredibly drained. Getting up was hard when all his knees wanted to do was buckle underneath him, he hadn’t expected this to be so draining. It seemed that the increased power of the ritual came at the cost of draining more magic from the one performing it. Which was a reasonable exchange, though quite annoying when he hadn’t expected it. 

Making his way back to the shed was hard, he’d all but fallen through the door, collapsed across his desk, and ended up weakly feeling around for a spare piece of parchment and a quill. The lost time made it impossible to tell how close he was to his deadline and Newt was feeling more than a little anxious. He scribbled down everything he could remember, getting ink all over his hands in his hurry. When he dropped the quill, he was staring at an address, a sketch and several runes. 

Perth was scrawled down twice, in quick succession, something concealed. Eihwaz was large next to them and bold, defence or defensive forces then, Newt couldn’t imagine the third meaning having any significance in this. Ehwaz was the last, and he’d drawn it hastily, the rune was slanted to the side, as if trying to move from the page. Ah, movement, the target was going to change location soon. 

No time to waste then. 

Newt tore the bottom of the parchment away, no need for the runes to be included in this, and grabbed his coat as he made for the trapdoor. Once out of the case, he snapped it shut, used the wall to prop himself up, and apparated to the MACUSA building. 

His apparition was clumsy at best, downright dangerous at worst, but it did the job. The entrance hall was deserted, clearly it was either very late at night or very early in the morning. A glance up at the clock in the entrance of the building gave him mere minutes to spare before his 5 hours was over and Newt rejoiced, what good timing. He ignored the way he stumbled, the apparition clearly a bit too draining after that long ritual and cheerfully asked Red to take him to the Law Enforcement Department. 

The house elf gave him a concerned look as he sagged against the wall of the elevator, but Newt merely smiled when Red asked if he was okay, he just needed a good nap that’s all. He ended up tripping out of the elevator, falling against one wall, and nearly dropped his suitcase twice. Newt finally managed to walk into the bullpen, right on time, only to walk right into Director Graves. 

“Mr Scamander,” The Director looked a little concerned as he set Newt back on his feet, “What are you doing in the office at this hour?” 

Newt was a tad confused, “I said five hours.” They must have been here for hours to not notice the time, poor Aurors. 

“You said five hours…” Realisation dawned on the Director’s face, and Newt congratulated himself on his punctuality. 

“Yes, here.” Newt grinned, swaying a little on his feet, and pressed the parchment into the Director’s hands. The man just stared down at it, his emotions strangely blank and his face dumbfounded, Newt hurried to explain. 

“An address and a sketch were all I could get you,” He waved at it with the hand not holding his case, “I’m pretty sure he’ll be there for the next 24 hours. It’s said to be concealed and heavily defended, or the man is defended at least. You should hurry though, there’s been something said about movement or moving on so I’m a little concerned he’ll try to flee before you get there.”

The Director just stared at him, why did he feel so concerned? Was it because Newt was late? He wasn’t late, he could’ve sworn he was on time? 

“I was on time, right? I did say five hours and I like being on time.” Newt rambled on, “You should probably go check out that address, you said it was important to catch this man before he tried to do anything to endanger the Statute of Secrecy? Or the American version of that, it begins with an ‘R’ right? I’m usually good at remembering laws but I can’t remember it right now. But yes, address, sketch, concealed entrance, heavily defended, man moving soon.” Newt tapped the parchment with each word. 

The Director continued to stare at him, Newt as starting to get a little worried, the poor man was probably exhausted, he felt exhausted. His emotions were a mess really, changing too fast for New to get a good read on them. Newt decided that repeating his words couldn’t hurt, but was interrupted by a gentle hand on his elbow, tugging him away. He glanced down to see who was so intent on getting his attention and was met with Tina’s concerned face. She was a swirling mess of worry and concern and a little bit of fear, it was dizzying.

Newt swayed and a bright burst of fear and worry lit up the room, it was very strange. Both the Director and Tina leaned in to steady him and more Aurors were starting to come over. 

“I think you should probably sit down, Newt.” Tina led him to couch in the corner while the Director waved away his subordinates, “Just sit here and we’ll handle the rest.” 

Newt nodded, more of a head bobble really, and sunk into the squishy pillows. It was very squishy, and soft, and Newt was very tired. He tried to stay awake, he really did, because Tina had said ‘sit here’ and not ‘sleep here’, but he was very tired. 

The next day, Newt was informed that he’d slept for a full 13 hours, and that they were all very worried when he’d burst into the office at 4am, looking like he was going to pass out at any moment. His location had paid off, and the suspect had been in the midst of relocating when they’d apprehended him. The entrance had indeed been concealed, and the base heavily defended. Director Graves praised him for his detailed information then gently told him that he had the rest of the week off, and could he please go home and get some rest. 

Newt did what he was told, surprisingly, because he really did feel exhausted even after sleeping for so long. Also, the whole department seemed to be buzzing with anxiety and worry and it was all centred around him. It was more than a little vertigo inducing, so Newt decided that staying in the office wasn’t an option. It was just as well he had the rest of the week off, because he ended up sleeping another 10 hours when he got back to his apartment and it took him three days to get his sleeping pattern back on track. 

5 

His hands were shaking. No, not just his hands, his whole body was trembling. He’d had a rough few days; losing his creatures, being dragged to MACUSA, being accused of murder, nearly being executed, being tortured on the train tracks, watching Credence being executed, saying goodbye to Frank, watching Jacob lose his memories. 

Being in a city for a disaster level event was taxing on him in so many ways, but his empathic abilities had really taken a beating. He’d gone through so many mojo bags, and he hadn’t had any time to himself to light up his psychic dulling candles and let them burn down to get the full effect. He’d been wide open when Credence had been attacked, the sheer force of his emotions was something that Newt had never felt before and was terrified of experiencing again. 

It was as if Credence had been screaming in his head, anger and hurt and fear and pain. So much pain, it ripped right through the protection the mojo bags offered him and left him reeling. He’d barely been functional by the time he’d stumbled up those stairs and out into the rain. The Jacob left them and Queenie’s hurt cut deep, she was so in love with him, so enamoured and attached. It was as if her heart was being torn in two. Tina had to apparate them both back to the apartment because Newt was so out of it. 

Newt was well beyond his breaking point by then, it was a damn miracle he was still upright. 

It was just as well that Queenie and Tina had already sent him to bed, both had given him concerned looks but they hadn’t protested when he’d said he was tired and wanted to rest. Their emotions had been screaming at him though; hurt and pain and fear and concern. 

He couldn’t get down to his case fast enough. 

Newt had brushed off the concerned looks and sounds that his creatures directed towards him, but he didn’t give them the excuse that he’d given Queenie and Tina. He was more comfortable with their feelings and emotions and he didn’t need to lie to them. When he told them that he needed some time to relax and would be in hot springs, they listened to him and left him be. 

Merlin, he loved his creatures so much. 

Newt paused in his shed to collect some of the things he would need, stopping by his herb and flower garden to get the rest, before he made his way to the hot springs. The whole area was set into a large cavern, so that he could relax while watching the light reflect off the water and make patterns on the ceiling. He’d also set the area up so that he could cleanse any herbs and oils he used from the waters after each bath. That way, any creatures could also come in and wouldn’t have to worry about allergens if they wanted to use it. 

Today he would be setting up a full-powered spiritual cleansing bath, with added healing candles and herbs. Some people preferred to use potions in their healing baths, but Newt found that potions tended to mess with the ambient magic in his cavern. They also had a bad habit of reacting with anything that had been cast on him, with semi-disastrous results. So, he had made his own cleansing bath using natural herbs and ambient magic and it worked beautifully. 

Newt had to admit, he used this particular cleansing bath more than he would like. It was supposed to be used following violence, abuse or profound humiliation and Newt was no stranger to violence given what he did for a living. He encountered a smuggling every other week when he was out in the field, so this was a familiar situation. 

The healing candles, however, weren’t usually needed, but Newt knew he would need them today. Along with the lemon verbena for purification and the common verbena for protection. This was going to be a mix of rituals, but Newt knew that he would need all the help he could get when that last bit of adrenaline finally failed him. 

He added the sea salt first, then the various essential oils – lavender, rose, rosemary, sandalwood, frankincense, myrrh and white rose – and finally the whole rose and calendula blooms. The bath smelled heavenly once he added the two types of verbena and lit his candles along the side of the basin. 

Newt discarded his clothes in one corner, setting his wand down on the side of the pool before gingerly lowering himself into the hot waters. The feeling of the ambient healing magic soaking into his skin was near euphoric, his whole body sagged as he felt the aches and pains of the last few days seep away with the hot water. He took a deep breath in and breathed magic into his lungs, the candles were working nicely and he felt his mind settle for the first time since he’d stepped off that boat. 

+1

Contrary to popular belief, Newt didn’t like causing trouble; it just tended to find him no matter what he did. This time was no different. He was just trying to free the two young Graphorns they had captured, he didn’t know that it would end up with him and half of the auror team in a cage. Honestly, if they actually told him that they were on a mission in the area then maybe Newt would have known better. But as it was, he’d ended up blowing their cover, got them all into a fight and got half the team captured, himself included. 

Really, they should actually tell him stuff instead of keeping him out of the loop. 

So now they were hostages to a large magical mafia group, and everyone was mad at him. Their anger was palpable, even without empathy Newt would have been able to tell that they were furious. 

“You don’t happen to still have that Bowtruckle on you?” Weiss sighed, manacles clinking as she searched her pockets for anything that their captors may have missed. She groaned when she found that they really had taken everything. 

Newt shook his head, “I left him at my apartment, with my case. I don’t like taking him into dangerous situations.” 

“Fucking hell, Scamander,” Abernathy grouched, “The one time you could actually be useful and you still manage to mess it up.”

Newt felt a little insulted at that, Abernathy actually believed his words too, he thought that Newt was completely useless unless it involved his creatures. Honestly, it was like they didn’t know that he spent most of his time escaping from cages and freeing animals from smugglers. Just because he didn’t have Picket with him didn’t mean that he was useless. 

Rule number one of escaping from cages: magic supressing cuffs only kept your magic within your body, it did nothing for internal magics. 

Which meant that Newt’s mage sight was perfectly uninhibited. 

If the appearance of glowing arcs and lines didn’t clue him in to the fact that his mage sight had activated, then Lopez’s loud swearing definitely would have. Really, it was as if these Aurors didn’t expect him to have something up his sleeve. Newt was seriously starting to believe that Theseus had severely edited his case file when he’d delivered it to Percival, because otherwise all these Aurors would know how many smuggling rings he’d taken out on his own. 

He would have to have words with his brother when he got out of here, it was one thing to be underestimated but this was just getting ridiculous. 

Newt shook his head, ignoring the stares he was receiving, and turned his attention to the wards around their cage. 

Rule number two of escaping cages: they usually weren’t made for humans. Brute force was always factored in, because most magical creatures were a good deal stronger than humans, but skill was another thing. Few smugglers knew how to spell something so that there weren’t loopholes in their wards and spells that humans could take advantage of. 

This cage, for example, had a lock that couldn’t be picked by conventional means because it turned into a flat plane when the key wasn’t touching the metal. Interesting use of locking spells and transfiguration, it was definitely Bowtruckle proof, so Picket wouldn’t have been able to help him anyway. But in their attempt to make the lock stronger, they’d completely forgotten about the hinges on the cage door. They weren’t enforced at all, amateurs. 

Newt cut the magic flow to his runes and immediately felt the difference, his sight was noticeable worse, he felt less focused, less grounded, and he couldn’t tune out the Aurors anymore. 

“–the hell was that Scamader?!” Simmons was hissing, eyes hard as he stared at the fading runes on Newt’s face. 

“That cannot be legal.” Weiss shook her head, her eyes piercing and suspicious coiling around her.

“I’m dead certain that it’s not.” Abernathy cut in, manic glee in his eyes, “You’re going to be in a lot of trouble when we get out of here, more if you keep doing whatever you just did.” 

This is why Newt didn’t tell any of them, the MACUSA had some backwards laws about anything that wasn’t their kind of magic, even worse than the Ministry in some cases. 

“Seriously Abernathy?!” If Lopez could kill someone with her eyes, Abernathy would be dead, “If he gets us out of here then I don’t care what kind of magic he uses to do it.” 

“It’s illegal.” Abernathy snapped, anger contorting his face as his eyes flickered between Newt and Lopez. 

Newt mused that it was a good thing they were shackled to opposite walls of the cage, otherwise Lopez probably would have decked Abernathy by now, magic or no magic. 

Lopez was quick to retort, “If he can get us out of here–” 

“Can you?” Simmons cut in before a fight could actually start, “Can you get us out of here?” 

“Yes.” Newt nodded, “Cages like this have weaknesses, I was just trying to find out what this one’s weak point was.” 

“And?” Simmons prodded, even Abernathy looked interested, the legality of Newt’s actions notwithstanding. 

“The hinges.” Newt nodded at the door, “They’re not enforced against spells.” 

“Fat lot of good that’ll do us, given that we’ve got no wands and are chained to the goddamn bars!” Abernathy spat, even as the other Aurors deflated at the impossibility of escaping their situation. 

Rule number three of escaping cages: magic supressing manacles didn’t do anything if you knew a non-magical method of taking them off. Namely, dislocating your thumbs, slipping your hands straight out and then popping your thumbs back in again. 

There was an audible crack as Newt did just that, to the horror of the watching Aurors, and slipped one hand out of the manacles and then the other. He set the manacles down on the floor and made his way over to the door while the Aurors were still distracted by what he’d just done. 

“What the fuck Scamander?” Weiss breathed, her disbelief tinged with what Newt thought might be respect. In fact, all of the Aurors were oozing a mixture of disbelief, respect and realisation. It seemed they were finally starting to understand how Newt had managed to keep himself alive for nearly a decade whilst travelling the world and rescuing magical creatures. 

Rule number four of escaping cages: smugglers never checked shoes. No matter how many times he’d been captured, none of them had ever managed to find the knife that he had stored in the sole his right shoe. So, it was simple to remove the heel with a quick twist of his hand and pull out the hidden blade. 

“As soon as we get out of here, I’m going to demand that a hidden knife becomes standard for all Aurors.” Lopez’s grin was a little scary, glee and something darker were oozing off of her. Newt really wondered whether it was a good idea to give her more weapons, she was terrifying enough with just a wand. 

Rule number five of escaping cages: no one ever warded against runic magic. Maybe it was due to a lack of practitioners in smuggling rings but Newt had never found a cage or cell that was warded against runes. It was a rather ridiculous loophole and Newt made sure to conceal any etchings he made in the cell/cage to ensure that no one ever caught on. 

Runic magic was a little old fashioned, and not at all useful in fights unless it was pre-prepared, but for situations like this it was perfect. If you carved the right runes in the right order with the right intention then you could do nearly anything. For example, carving Kano and Hagalaz into all the hinges, and then powering them with magic, had the metal melting into a puddle on the floor. With the hinges out of the way, all the weight was on the lock, which soon snapped under the pressure, and Newt was able to lower the entire door onto the floor. 

“Damn.” Lopez grinned, admiration swirling around her, “I’m starting to think that your file from the Ministry was downplaying a few things.” 

“No shit.” Abernathy grumbled, but Newt could feel his own appreciation, so wasn’t too put off by his angry tone, “I don’t suppose you’re hiding anything that could get us out of these cuffs?” 

Runic magic was so useful. Liberal application of Kano and Othila did the trick, soon the Aurors were rubbing their freed wrists and clapping him on the back. Simmons, in particular, was adamant about knowing more about what Newt just did once they got out of here. Newt just sighed, he wasn’t looking forward to all of the explanations he as going to have to give when it came time to debrief. He really hated public speaking and, knowing Director Graves, it was going to take hours.

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a part of an ongoing series to explore different types of magic and magical creatures. Let me know if there is anything you want to know more about or think I should explore. Please comment on things that you liked or want to see more of in the future! Thanks :)


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